Various and Sundry Poetry

falls from grace

because of the noise she makes in the morning
because of her insistence on closed shutters
because of the way she hesitates before a map
because of the indelicate way she drives
because of her need to be held and touched
long after the argument is over
because of her breezy handling of conflict
because of her conservative approach to a dinner menu
because of her wild swings between hunger and overindulgence
because of the faultlines of her boundaries
because of her unwillingness to bend toward weakness
because of her unawareness of her own body,
her clumsy negotiation of a sidewalk, a bedroom, a door
because of her easy criticisms, her punishing eye,
her self-diminishment
because together they could not always line up the story
they'd begun with, a cozy scene of sexy familiarity
and a smooth stretch of time when there was nothing to do
but lap up their beauty, their stunning possibility
because together they were not as they had once thought,
a pair of puzzle pieces locking swiftly into place
because they were fragile and imperfect and foolish creatures
destined for certain doom and disaster
they were now, and would forever be, taking these falls from grace,
tumbling from the heavens each time they managed to climb back up,
into a clammy, crumbly earth below where, unbeknownst to them,
something was stubbornly, and beyond reason,
taking root.